


War of the Weyrs

by ITookTheOneLessTravelledBy



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 08:10:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12008607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ITookTheOneLessTravelledBy/pseuds/ITookTheOneLessTravelledBy
Summary: It's been five hundred turns since the Red Star dropped Thread on Pern, and no one else believes it will return. No one but Elienya. But what can one drudge due to prepare an entire planet? When a Searchrider chooses Elienya on Search for a Queen Egg at Benden Weyr, she thinks all of her problems will be solved, but convincing an entire Weyr's existence of Thread proves to be more difficult than she anticipated. After she finds viable proof of Thread's existence in old records, but the Benden Weyrleader ignores her near a Pass, she takes matters into her own hands and causes a civil war among the Weyrs.





	1. Chapter 1

As a drudge, Elienya went largely unnoticed by the general populace of the Weyr. No one noticed the girl who cleaned out the hearth, scrubbed dishes in the lower caverns, or replaced glow baskets. It largely suited her purposes, as she enjoyed observing without participating, stealing little tidbits of gossip if she thought it might be useful. Although people considered to be daft and dumb, she had a very quick wit and cunning intellect rarely seen in the lower caverns.

Crouching in the hearth, Elienya scraped out the coals and washed it with fresh water. She listened to a Wingsecond and Wingleader who spoke over cards, barely giving another glance to the working drudge.

"The rebels are causing trouble again," said the Wingsecond, a brownrider named N'ten.

"They're harmless," said bronzerider K'nessan.

N'ten slapped a hard onto the table, and K'nessan grunted. "I don't know, K'nessan. If they broke into the Weyr, they could do a lot of damage. They've been raiding tithe caravans and stealing weapons and food."

"Swords and arrows will do little good against a flaming dragon," said K'nessan.

"You and I both know the dragons would never harm a human."

"The rebels don't know that. Besides, if it was to protect their rider, the dragons would attack."

"I suppose that's true."

They lapsed into silence, allowing Elienya to mull over the information. The rebels had formed a few Turns ago, when the Red Star had been nearly bracketed by the Eye Rock, heralding the approach of Thread. At least, that's what Elienya believed. Everyone else called her a fool, a simpleton, for her beliefs. Thread hadn't fallen in over three hundred turns, and it would never fall again. The dragons were becoming obsolete, and tithes were coming few and far between. Worse than that, Weyrleader V'neron and Weyrwoman Clara were content to let the Weyr's reputation deteriorate. Currently, Gold Herth guarded a clutch of twenty two eggs, a number that should've been doubled this close to a Pass.

If I had command, thought Elienya, things would be different.

After she finished her chores, Elienya lugged the bucket of ashy water from the Weyr and emptied it in the bowl. The sunlight glinted overhead, piercing the morning mist wreathing the Weyr in a grey cloud. The lake gleamed, barely visible, in the center of the bowl, alongside a series of pens with wherries and herdbeasts tucked inside. The Weyr entrances stood out like gaping mouths on the rock wall, with dragons lounging on their ledges or sunning themselves.

The watch dragon stood on the heights of the Eye Stone, its head turned towards the horizon. Elienya frowned. She reached out her thoughts and tentatively brushed against blue Fareth's conscience. She'd learned to hide her gift at a very young age. When she told the other Weyrbrats she could hear all dragons, it resulted in taunting, jeers, and the occasional beating. Once she got older, no one believed a stupid drudge, and she stopped trying to convince them of her ability.

Despite the utter lack of danger, Fareth felt ill at ease the longer he gazed at the horizon. His tail twitched restlessly from side to side, and his eyes were an alarmed orange.

Elienya followed his gaze. The blue felt unease because the Red Star loomed in that direction, a dark, ominous presence heralding death and destruction if the dragons of Pern didn't rise to sear the Thread.

How did the Harper songs go?

"Wheel and turn,

Or bleed and burn.  
Fly between,  
Blue and green.  
Soar, dive down,  
Bronze and brown  
Dragonmen must fly  
When Threads are in the sky."

Why didn't anybody listen to the songs the Harpers strove so diligently to teach everyone? Drangonmen must fly when Thread are in the sky. Even if his rider didn't believe, Fareth knew the Red Star was dangerous. His innate draconic instincts prepared him to fight, while centuries of peace prepared the dragonmen to fall.

Shaking her head, Elienya turned and strode back into the lower caverns. The Weyr had roused for the morning, and she hurried into the kitchen to help prepare the morning meal. She brewed a few pots of klah on the hearth, and helped slice redfruit to stir into the porridge. Headwoman Veteny bustled about, her sizable girth wrapped about in a thin white apron above a brown woolen dress. Her hair held more grey than brown, and generous lines wrinkled her face, but her brown eyes were lively and fierce.

"The Candidates will be arriving today," she bellowed. "We'll need to prepare extra breakfast, lunch, and dinner for our guests. Also, all available drudges will need to clean out the candidates quarters." She gave Elienya a pointed glare, shooing her away from the honeyed buns she'd deposited in the hearth. Bobbing a curtsy, Elienya turned and hurried from the room. As she headed out of the lower caverns to clean the candidate alcoves, a commotion in the Bowl drew her eye. Although she didn't want to irk Headwoman Veteny, Elienya's curiosity drove her to the Bowl.

Three dragons were perched on the grass, their talons forming gouges in the dirt. Green Corth, Green Pelyth, and Brown Xisith. The dragonriders all had the S of Searchriders emblazoned on their shoulder knots, and with a jolt Elienya realized the dragonriders had called the weyrbrats to Search.

Frustration surged through her. Why wasn't she notified? Because she was a lowly drudge, too stupid to impress. Normally she relished the way people underestimated her because it gave her an advantage, but in this particular situation, it thoroughly irritated her. She deserved to stand on the Hatching Grounds. She deserved to Impress a Queen and become Benden Weyr's Junior Weyrwoman.

Wary of the other Weyrbrats, Elienya slipped from the shadows of the Weyrbowl and crossed to join the crowd. Other than a few dismissive darts of eyes, no one paid her any attention. She lingered in the back, afraid that if one of the dragonriders spotted her, they would dismiss her to the lower caverns before the dragons had a chance to assess her potential.

After a few minutes, a soft, inquisitive voice flowed through her mind. Why do you hide from me, little one? asked green Pelyth.

A proud smile lifted Elienya's lips. "I'm not hiding," she whispered.

Yes, you are. You are very strong, but you're shielding yourself from me.

Elienya cocked her head to the side. "I am?" The other Weyrbrats near her turned with whispers of confusion and frowns, but she ignored them.

Yes. It makes it hard to read your full potential.

Elienya's heart lurched into her throat. What if she wasn't chosen? At sixteen, it was the first year she was eligible to Impress, and she wanted her first hatching to be her last.

What's your name? asked Pelyth.

"Elienya," she whispered.

"Will Elienya please step forward?" called T'van, green Pelyth's rider. Smothering a smirk, Elienya slipped past the other Weyrbrats, who were startled to find a drudge among them. Surprise widened T'van's eyes at the sight of the dirt smeared across Elienya's arms and dress from the hearth, and the tangled disrepair of her long blonde hair. If the contrasting color of her pale brown eyes intrigued him, he gave no outward sign of it.

"You've been chosen on Search, Elienya. Do you accept?"

She curtsied. "Of course, greenrider T'van."

T'van looked pleased she remembered his name. "Very good. Report to the candidate barracks."

Elation buoyed Elienya's spirits. To think, she'd been tasked with cleaning the very same barracks not an hour earlier! She would prove to all of them she was worthy of accolade. Without waiting for the other Weyrbrats, she turned and headed back into the Weyr. On the way, she paused for a bucket and mop and cleaned the candidate alcove she'd chosen as her own. It had four wooden beds partitioned by curtains, with white candidate robes lining pegs on the wall. It was closest to the bathing quarters at the end of the hall, and she wanted to be nearby in the event she had to bathe and head to the Hatching Ground quickly. Although she was used to working in filth, she wanted to clean to Impress her gold dragonet.


	2. The Competition

After she'd finished, Elienya brought her meager belongings from the lower cavern quarters to the candidate alcove. On the way, she ran into Headwoman Veteny, who's expression creased sternly.

"Elienya," she barked. "What did I tell you? I expect those candidate alcoves to be clean enough to eat off of."

Elienya bowed. "My apologies, Headwoman Veteny, but I only managed to clean one."

"What do you mean, you've only managed to clean one?"

"I've been chosen on Search, Headwoman."

Elienya relished the surprise that flashed across Headwoman Veteny's face. "Ah. Yes. Well, I see. In that case, congratulations." Shaking her head in obvious befuddlement, Headwoman Veteny turned and strode back in the direction she'd come. After she moved her belongings, Elienya soaked herself in a long, hot bath. She scrubbed at the ash and soot on her arms until her pale skin shone, red from scrubbing, and brushed out her long blonde hair until it gleamed. Then, she toweled it dry and changed into a fresh, clean white dress for breakfast.

By the time she returned to the kitchen, the other Weyrbrats had trickled in, looking either exultant or dejected. She recognized a few of them, having grown up together, and wondered at the draconic choices. Gertoly, a noble-hearted young man who never told a lie, had been passed over, but Ferken, a nasty boy with a mean temper and even meaner tongue, had been chosen on Search. Timid Celia had been chosen, but outspoken, rambunctious Ariana had been left in the lower caverns.

Rather than sit with the others, Elienya took a bowl of porridge with redfruit, a cup of klah, and sat off to one side to eat by herself. The other Candidates startled to trickle in as the morning drew on, dropped off by the Searchriders. The Holders and Crafters all wore identical expressions of shock and amazement, their eyes wide and their jaws slack. The Headwoman bustled out to meet them and ushered them into seats, plying them with porridge, refruit, klah, and sweet buns. Her voice carried above the growing cacophony as other dragonriders streamed in for breakfast.

"The Candidate Master will be with you shortly, dearies," said Headwoman Veteny. "Once you eat, you can get situated in your new barracks." She left them to their meals, and while they ate, Elienya sized up her competition. There were more boys than girls, but the girls, she noticed, were all very pretty. There was a plump girl with rosy cheeks and full rosebud lips, whose brunette curls hung past her shoulders. There was another girl with pretty bronze skin, curling black hair, and pale grey eyes. The last was a timid creature who gazed shyly at her plate and food and spoke sparingly to the other Candidates.

Overall, Elienya thought she had a fair shot at the queen egg.

"Good morning, Candidates." A short man strode into the kitchen, wearing the C of Candidatemaster on his brown shoulder knots. "I am C'zenen, rider of Brown Firoth, and I'll be your Candidatemaster. I'll show you to your barracks, now." The Holders and Crafters rose as one and trickled after the Candidatemaster, followed by the other Weyrbrats.

"I would advise you to take the time to get to know your fellow bunkmates," he said as they walked. "If you Impress, you'll be training together for a long, long time. Now, the boys and girls will be separated. The boys will be here—" he pointed to one side of the alcoves "—and the girls will be here." He gestured to Elienya's alcove. "Once you're settled, meet me in the Weyrbowl and we'll begin your lessons." Without waiting for any questions or comments, he turned and strode out.

The other girls strode into her room, and Elienya followed, studying them curiously.

The girl with the bronze skin flung her satchel onto the trunk at the foot of the bed next to Elienya, plopped onto the bed, and folded her hands behind her head with a dreamy smile. "Ah, to be in a Weyr at last!" She rolled onto her stomach and propped her chin in her hands, a grin on her face. The pretty brunette sniffed at her behavior and took her time folding her clothes neatly in her chest, while the shy girl nibbled on her lower lip and gazed at the satchel in her hands, at a loss for what to do.

"Have you never been to a Weyr before?" asked Elienya.

The girl grimaced. "My parents only admitted me to visit once, for a Gather in Benden Weyr. But I've always longed to come back."

"Why?" squeaked the shy girl. "Isn't it…frightening?"

"Frightening? By the egg, no!" The bronze-skinned girl made a face as if that were the most preposterous thing she'd ever heard. "It's enchanting. It's magical. Women have more rights in the Weyr than we do in the Hold. We don't have to marry, or bear children if we don't want to. Our bodies are ours to do with as we please," she said, and ran a seductive hand down her thigh to show exactly what she meant by that statement.

In that moment, Elienya decided that she liked her.

"I'm Elienya of Benden Weyr." Elienya held out her hand. The bronze-skinned girl sat up and shook it with her ever-present grin.

"Cesrik of Bitra Hold," she said.

"I'm Penolly, and that's Eryn. We're both from Benden Hold," said the pretty brunette. Eryn curtsied, accidentally spilling the contents of her satchel on the floor. With a furious blush, she knelt and began gathering the contents into her arm while Penolly rolled her eyes.

"Are you Weyrbred?" asked Cesrik.

Elienya nodded. "I'm a drudge."

Penolly scowled. "A drudge? What's a drudge allowed in the candidate barracks? Are you here to clean?"

Elienya kept her face neutral as she said, "I was a drudge before I was searched, Penolly."

Penolly gave her a strange look. "Oh. If you say so."

"Oh, you lucky dear!" Cesrik clasped Elienya's hands in both of hers and gazed up at her with beseeching eyes. "What was it like to grow up in the Weyr?"

Elienya crinkled her nose. "For me? Dirty."

For a moment, Cesrik's face went blank with confusion. When she noticed the slight curve of Elienya's lips, she burst out laughing, holding her ribs with the force of her amusement. "Dirty! Hah! Well, here's hoping my experience is dirtier in more ways than one." Winking, Cesrik rose and linked her elbow through Elienya's. "Shall we go?"

"We shall." The girls left the women's alcove with Penolly and Eryn walking behind them. The girls joined the flood of boys to the Weyrbowl, where C'zenen and brown Firoth waited. The brown lounged indolently on his stomach, but he regarded the candidates with curious green eyes.

"Well, it's about time," grumbled C'zenen. "For today's lesson, we'll go over basic draconic anatomy, because you're needed in the Infirmary. We have a few injured dragons and riders."

"What happened?" whispered Cesrik.

"Rebels," whispered Elienya.

Cesrik gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. "No!"

"Yes."

"But how did the rebels—"

"As I was saying," said C'zenen loudly with a pointed look in their direction. "The pinions are – if you will, Firoth—" The brown obliged him by spreading his wings wide until the leathery sails caught the sun and brought out the veins of bronze, turning the wings nearly transluscent. "—are attached to the spine, and…" Once he finished his explanations, C'zenen led them towards the Infirmary.

Within, there were four dragons curled up on beds with their riders on cots nearby. The riders had bandages wrapped around their arms and legs, while the dragons had towels stretched across their necks, backs, and tails.

"These riders were ambushed by rebels," said C'zenen, and the candidates murmured nervously. "You'll need to help remove the bandages and replace them with numbweed. There will be four candidates for each dragon." As if they had the same thought, or perhaps it was the sheer virtue of being the only girls among the candidates, Elienya, Cesrik, Penolly, and Eryn moved towards the nearest dragon, a small blue with bandages on its neck and tail.

The bluerider hobbled towards them on a crutch, his left leg secured in a splint.

"Well, well, lucky us, Xirieth," said the bluerider. "We get all the pretty girls to ourselves."

I hurt, said Xirieth. May I have more numbweed?

"Of course, my sweet." The bluerider turned a friendly smile on them. "Who has the steadiest hands?" When all the girls raised their hands, the bluerider tossed back his head and laugh. "Well, don't all jump up at once."

I like the blonde one, said Xirieth, and Elienya blinked.

"Let's start with you," said the bluerider and pointed at Elienya. "It seems Xirieth's taken a shine to you." Unable to contain her smile, Elienya walked forward to help him, aware of the other girl's piercing eyes on her back. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin high. Even though she liked Cesrik, this was still a competition for the queen egg, and she'd just proven herself a contender.

"Now, use your index finger to roll back the bandage. You," said the bluerider and gestured at Cesrik, "go soak a rag in numbweed, if you please." Nodding, Cesrik hurried off, rubbing her hands eagerly together at her waist. While she did, Elienya gently inserted her finger into the bandage and rolled it back. When she did, her stomach roiled nauseously. The hide had been burned clean off, the flesh raw and red underneath.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Flamethrowers," said the bluerider.

Elienya couldn't contain her surprise. "The rebels have flamethrowers?"

"Yes, ma'am. They ambushed a caravan we were escorting from Ruatha Hold, and used their flamethrowers on poor Xirieth. As for me, I was a fool. My straps weren't set right, and I fell off Xirieth's neck. I damn near broke my back, and I'm lucky to be alive."

Elienya tried to hide her disdain, but it didn't go unnoticed by Xirieth.

My riders allowed to make mistakes, said the blue kindly. He's not perfect.

He needs to be better if we're going to fight Thread, she thought.

Xirieth stirred, the tip of his tail twitching at the mention of his ancient nemesis.

Then, Cesrik returned with the rag, and Elienya gently laid the numbweed onto the open mound. Xirieth's neck muscles quivered than relaxed, and he huffed a great moan.

That feels splendid, said Xirieth. Thank you, little blonde one.

"You're welcome," she said.

Cesrik's eyes shot towards her. "He spoke to you?" There was no hiding the naked envy in her voice.

The bluerider grinned. "The dragons can speak to whoever they want."

"Oh!" Cesrik's eyes widened in delight. She waved at Xirieth. "Hello, Xirieth!"

The blue snorted in amusement. Hello, little bronze one.

Cesrik squealed and clapped her hands together. "He spoke to me! What a lovely voice you have," she crooned to the blue.

"You should scratch his eyeridge," said the bluerider with a laugh. "He loves that." Reaching up on her tiptoes, Cesrik scratched an eyeridge and Xirieth closed his eyes in delight with a soft sigh.

"Excuse me, but may we have a turn?" asked Penolly petulantly. Eryn stood behind her, almost hiding behind the plump girl, and wrung her hands together at her waist.

"Of course!" The bluerider gestured them forward. "Thanks for your time, girls."


	3. The Mating Flight

Elienya and Cesrik nodded and moved back. The girls took turns with the bandages, and by the time they finished their fingers were numb and their stomachs growled plaintively. Candidatemaster C'zenen released them for lunch, and when they reached the kitchens they found more candidates waiting for them. The Crafters and Holders had the same looks of awestruck children as the last batch, their eyes traveling around the cavern. Elienya noticed three more girls among their ranks, and studied them with narrow eyes. She had a decent feel for Cesrik and the others, but she'd have to assess the new girls.

After lunch, C'zenen showed them how to muck out the herdbeast pens, replace glow baskets, and help in the kitchens, all of which Elienya knew how to do. She took her time to survey the other girls, and felt more and more confident of her Impression of the young queen on the hatching sands.

When the candidates gathered to head back into the Weyr for dinner, a loud, brassy bugle broke out overhead, halting everyone in their tracks. Fear scattered the Holders and Crafters, but the Weyrbred tilted back their heads to find the source of the noise.

Benelith, the Junior Queen of Benden Weyr, sat with her wings flared on her ledge, her entire body glowing a brilliant gold. Candidatemaster C'zenen cursed and ushered the candidates back towards the Weyr.

"It's a flight," he shouted.

"What's a flight?" asked Cesrik.

"It's a mating flight," said Elienya, unable to take her eyes off the glistening queen. The regal beauty glided from her ledge to the herd of wherries, sinking her teeth into the tough skin with a fervent hunger. She blooded the beast, tossed its body aside with a hiss, and tore into the second.

"A mating flight?" Cesrik sighed in delight. "Oh, how wonderful!"

"It's…interesting," said Elienya.

"How so?"

"Well, the…amorous tendencies of the dragons tend to—" As if to punctuate her words, a wave of lust rolled through Elienya, starting at the tips of her toes and vibrating through her entire body. She felt it in her chest, in her gut, even the space between her thighs.

Cesrik gasped and clutched her arms around her chest. "Oh. Oh!"

"Now, candidates, you may experience lustful urges," said Candidatemaster C'zenen as he hurried them to the candidate alcoves. "It's a very normal reaction, but I do not want you to act on it. We have more than a few accidental pregnancies result from mating flights, especially among Holders and Crafters who don't know any better." Nervous, uncomfortable laughs echoed through the candidates.

"For now, stay in your rooms, and I'll let you know when it's alright to leave." After he'd cloistered the girls in their alcove, he darted out to ensure the boys had withdrawn into theirs. Pennoly paced the length of the alcove with quick, agitated steps, a scowl on her face, but Eryn threw herself onto the bed and buried her face in the pillow, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

A mischevious grin lifted Cesrik's lips. "So," she said slyly, "what's it like?"

"What do you mean?" asked Elienya.

"What's it like to be with someone during a mating flight? I bet it's life changing."

"I wouldn't know."

Cesrik looked genuinely perplexed. "A virgin Weyrbrat?"

Elienya couldn't help but laugh at her dumbfounded expression. "Yes. We have more freedom with our bodies, but that doesn't mean we're required to use it."

"Huh. I hadn't thought about it like that before. Well…" She smoothed down her dress and pinched some color into her cheeks before twirling her dark hair around her fingers to give it extra curl. "I for one plan to take full advantage of this opportunity and enjoy myself." She turned and marched towards the door.

"Cesrik, wait," said Elienya. "You'll be—" But Cesrik had already slipped out of the alcove and down the hall. Sighing, Elienya shook her head, but a ghost of a smile graced her lips. When a soft sniffle reached her, she went and sat down on the edge of Eryn's bed. After a moment of hesitation, she rubbed the other girl's back.

"It's alright, Eryn," she said. "It's perfectly natural to feel aroused during a mating flight. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Says the drudge," muttered Pennoly under her breath.

"I heard that, Pennoy," said Elienya, and Pennoly flushed.

"I-I'm not ashamed," said Eryn through her tears. "I-I-I'm…I'm frightened. I've n-never felt like this b-b-before." If lust scared the girl, Elienya doubted she'd make a good dragonrider, but she kept the thought to herself. Eryn gripped the pillow in both hands and cried harder, her brown hair spilling across the white sheets. Elienya ran her fingers through her hair, the way her foster mother used to do to her before she'd died. It always used to calm her down.

"It's alright," she said. "It'll be alright." Within a few minutes, Eryn had stopped crying, and Elienya's gentle strokes had lulled her to sleep. Her soft snores filled the room, while Pennoly fidgeted and Elienya closed her eyes. Wave after wave of mind numbing lust caused her body to quake, and sweat broke out on her forehead and back. The middle of her thighs had become wet, and she had to relieve herself multiple times in the lavatory.

By the time an hour had passed, a strangle rumbling began to vibrate through the cavern. Elienya cocked her head to the side with a frown. Were the dragons humming? Excitement sliced through her state of arousal. The hatching! A moment later, her hopes were dashed as a wail pierced the air.

Pennoly and Elienya shared a wide-eyed stare as Eryn bolted upright in bed, drool sliding down her chin. Elienya darted to her feet and ran for the entrance to the alcove. At the same time, Cesrik stumbled from one of the boy's alcoves down the hall, her dress disheveled and her hair in a tangled mess.

"What is it?" she asked, her cheeks rosy from exertion. "What's happening?"

"I don't—"

"Rebels!" The scream echoed through the tunnel, and a deathly silence fell. "The rebels are in the Weyrbowl!" Cesrik and Elienya gazed at each other across the length of the tunnel, an unspoken thought passing between them.

"The lower caverns," said Elienya at the same time Cesrik said, "I'll gather the others." The girls nodded and turned to complete their duties. Elienya grabbed Pennoly's sleeve. "Pennoly, go and find as many glow baskets as you can."

Pennoly frowned. "Why?"

"We're going to hide in the lower caverns," she said. Understanding dawned on Pennoly's face. She nodded, grabbed the glow baskets in their alcove, and ran into the tunnel to gather more. Eryn stood with her hands clasped at her waist, her face whiter than a sheet.

"Wh-what do you want me to do?" asked the other girl.

Elienya studied her for a long, silent moment. "I want you to stay close to me." She took Eryn's hand and squeezed it. The other girl sagged with relief and followed her out of the alcove. In the tunnel, Cesrik had herded the other candidates, including the boys, into a large group, all muttering and tossing confused glasses at the stubborn bronze-skinned Crafter. The sounds of battle drifted towards them, dragons roaring and squawking, the clash of metal on metal, and the horrible shrieks of wounded men and women. It was such a tragic way to end a Mating Flight.

"What's going on?" asked one of the boys. "Why are we standing around?"

"There are rebels in the Weyrbowl," another anxious voice said. "We need to run."

"If you dolts would shut up and listen, we'd explain what we're going to do," snapped Cesrik. Silence followed, and she gestured for Elienya to continue.  
"We're going to hide in the lower caverns," she said. "I need every few candidates to take a glow basket and follow me." Still tightly clasping Eryn's hand, Elienya turned and hurried through the tunnels. A quick glance over her shoulder told her the other candidates were following at her heels, while Cesrik and Pennoly handed out the remaining glow baskets. Cesrik's eyes met hers and she nodded with an encouraging grin.

When they passed the kitchens, it was eerily silent, but the hallways were filled with screaming drudges, lower cavern workers, and riders running for the Weyrbowl. The candidates pressed closer to the walls to avoid being trampled, and within a few minutes had walked far enough into the lower caverns that the noise of chaos faded into a distant hum. Elienya drew in a deep breath and released it slowly, the tension easing from her body.

Then, a loud crash sounded behind them, followed by a scream.

"It's the rebels!" came a voice at the end of their line. "They've found us!"


	4. The Rebels

Elienya's heart leapt into her throat with fright. Eyes darting wildly through the tunnel, she spotted an indent in the rock that formed a perfect door, and ran towards it.

"Help me open this!" she shouted. Three burly boys darted forward and shoved their shoulders into the rock. It pushed inward with a grown and a hiss of trapped air, dust blowing across their faces and making them cough. Once it had been slid open, Elienya stood aside and allowed the candidates to stream into the room. Although she hadn't expected Eryn to obey quite so literally, she stayed glued to Elienya's side, a quiet shadow in the pale darkness. Cesrik and Pennoly were the last two girls to pass into the tunnel, and behind them, Elienya saw rebels racing towards them.

The men – at least, Elienya assumed they were men – wore ragged tunics and breeches patched with holes, and black masks obscured their faces from view. Shuddering, Elienya swept Cesrik and Pennoly into the cavern and followed them inside.

"Close the door!" she shouted. The boys leapt forward and slid the rock back into place, bracing themselves against it from the other side. There was a loud thump, followed by a muttered curse and the scuffle of boots on stone. Cesrik grabbed Elienya's hand and squeezed it so tightly her knuckles ground together. Eryn whimpered, and Pennoly hissed, "Be quiet." Reaching out, Elienya put an arm around Eryn and tucked her against her side. The other girl clutched the front of her dress and clung to her for dear life.

The entire group of candidates held their breath while the rebels threw themselves at the door again and again, their bangs and thuds filling the too quiet space around them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity but probably passed in a few seconds, the sound of the rebel's footsteps faded away into silence.

No one moved for a few more minutes to make sure the rebels had left.

Sighing, Elienya slumped against Eryn, and Cesrik released a nearly hysterical laugh.

"Wow," she said. "And I thought this day couldn't get any more exciting."

With a snort, Elienya untangled Eryn from the front of her dress, who continued to shake with wide, frightened eyes, and peered around the cavern. The other candidates were huddled to one side, giving her a full view of the room. There were bookcases lining the walls, with reading tables and chairs tucked throughout. The bookcases were filled with old tomes and parchment.

"What is this place?" asked Cesrik.

"I don't know," Elienya admitted. "I've never been here before."

"What?" Cesrik smacked a hand to her forehead. "I thought you knew the lower caverns! You're a Weyrbrat, and a drudge!"

"I do, but the rebels were closing in so I went for the first door I could find."

"Ah, I see. Well, that makes sense."

Elienya took a glow basket from one of the boys and walked over to the bookcase, running her fingers along the tomes. There were a lot of titles about the history of Pern, the Holds, and the Weyrs – which would be useful, she would show them to Headwoman Veteny later – along with maps, but it was the last shelf on the case that caught and held her attention. There was a cluster of parchments tightly bound together with twine, and a note attached that said, Read me. The handwriting looked strangely familiar, but she couldn't quite place.

When she unrolled the parchment and found a map of the constellations of Pern, a handwritten note said, Follow the stars, and she understood why the handwriting looked familiar. It had been written in her own hand. A sense of déjà vu washed over Elienya, as if she'd stood in this room before and seen the same parchment, except that was impossible. She hadn't even known this room existed until a few minutes ago. She shook the sensation away and placed a hand to her forehead. She must have been mistaken. Or she and another person from the past had very similar handwriting.

Slowly, carefully, so she wouldn't ruin the aged parchment, Elienya studied the rest of the papers.

"What's that?" asked Pennoly. Elienya jumped. She hadn't realized the other girl had followed her, but Pennoly and Cesrik hovered at her elbow, peering curiously at the parchment.

"I'm not sure. It looks like…" Elienya sucked in a sharp breath. No, it couldn't be. Could it? The first piece of parchment showed two ovals, along with lines looping along the page. It almost looked like a flight trajectory. There were dates scrawled along the side where the two planets intersected or came together. Heart pounding with excitement, Elienya realized the map showed the orbit of Pern and the Red Star, and showed when Thread had fallen in previous centuries.

She eagerly handed the parchment to Cesrik and studied the others. The next took her breath away. It had a very detailed, organized listing of how and when thread fell, a chart showing the apparent dates and times of the dragonrider's encounter with the ancient menace of Thread.

Proof. She had solid, tangible proof that Thread existed.

"We need to find Weyrleader V'neron."

After an hour had passed without a sound outside the cavern, the boys tentatively pushed the door aside. It slid aside with a loud, grating squeal, and everyone froze. When no rebels darted from the shadows or appeared down the hall, the candidates slowly trickled from the room that had been their safe haven. Elienya and Cesrik hurried ahead, the precious parchments cradled in their arms. Pennoly and Eryn each held a glow basket to light their way, although Eryn's shook ever so slightly as she walked.

Most of the Weyr was empty, but Elienya followed the sound of draconic voices into the Weyrbowl. She stepped foot into the blinding sunlight and froze, her excitement withering at the sight before her. There were bodies strewn across the grass, their blood turning the green stalks a horrible shade of crimson. The metallic scent coated the air and made her want to gag, and the high, keening wail of dragons mourning the lost made her heart hurt. Herth trumpeted challenge after challenge from the Hatching Cavern where she guarded her eggs, her roar drowning out the weyrfolk and dragonriders below.

"There you are!" Candidatemaster C'zenen stormed towards them. Despite the scowl on his face, a hint of color returned to his pale face at the sight of them. "Where in the name of Faranth's egg were you?"

"We hid in the lower caverns, sir," said Cesrik.

"Oh." Candidatemaster C'zenen blinked. "Actually, that's rather brilliant. Good job."

Cesrik smirked. "Thank you, sir."

Elienya scanned the crowd until she found the face she wanted to see. Snagging Cesrik by the sleeve, she hurried towards the Weyrleader, who stood in a tight circle with the Weyrwoman and his wingleaders.

"…don't know how they got past the watch dragon," said one of the bronzeriders.

"Unless the beast was asleep," snapped another.

"It doesn't matter how they got in," said Weyrwoman Clara with a sharp look. "The fact of the matter is they did, and we need to deal with the consequences. We must bury our dead, and ensure it doesn't happen again."

"Pardon me, Weyrleader V'neron, I must speak with you," said Elienya. The dragonriders turned to her with identical blank faces, stunned a lowly candidate would be bold enough to address their Weyrleader directly.

Weyrleader V'neron grunted and waved her away without a glance in her direction. "I'm busy. Help the Headwoman clean up this mess."

"It's very important, sir," said Elienya more firmly. "It has to do with Thread—"

"Thread?" Weyrleader V'neron whirled on Elienya with such menace she gasped and took a step back. Cesrik tilted her chin in haughty defiance and glared at Weyrleader V'neron, a sturdy presence at Elienya's side. "Did you interrupt my council with silly talk of Thread? You must be deranged, girl."

"I'm not." Elienya held up the parchment. "If you just look, I know you'll—"

"I don't have time for this," thundered Weyrleader V'neron. "We were just attacked by rebels, and you want me to chase an old wive's tale. Get out of my sight, girl, before I have you punished."

Elienya clenched her jaw. "But, sir—"

"My apologies, Weyrleader V'neron." Candidatemaster C'zenen grabbed her by the elbow and yanked her away from the bronzerider. Elienya stumbled and nearly dropped her precious cargo, clutching the papers more firmly to her chest. "I'll handle her." Before Elienya could protest, Candidatemaster C'zenen bodily dragged her away from the Weyrleader, who watched her leave with a scowl.

Frustration pricked Elienya's nerves. "Please, sir," she cried out, struggling against Candidatemaster C'zenen, "it's important!"

"Be quiet," said the Candidatemaster. "You're lucky the Weyrleader didn't throw you back into the lower caverns!"

"If you look at the—"

"You're on extra duty in the stables, girl," said the Candidatemaster. "If you say one more sharding word, girl, you'll be on latrine duty until the day of the hatching." Elienya ground her teeth together and glared at the back of C'zenen's head. Why didn't anyone believe her? Why wouldn't anyone look at the hard proof she'd stumbled upon, showing Thread's existence?

She reached out to bronze Kyoth, the Weyrleader's dragon. Please, Kyoth, you must speak with him!

The bronze reacted with a touch of surprise. Who are you?

It doesn't matter. The Red Star draws nearer and nearer! Thread will fall!

Kyoth remained quiet for so long she feared the bronze had ignored her, but then she heard a faint, I will try. Elienya could've sagged with relief. At least the dragons were on her side. Once they'd walked inside the Weyr, Candidatemaster C'zenen practically threw her into the women's candidate alcove.

"Stay here until dinner," he said, "while I deal with the chaos in the bowl." Grumbling under his breath around wherry brained girls, he turned and strode off.

Cesrik watched him leave with a sniff. "He's not very fun, is he?"

Elienya shook her head and took her time spreading the parchments out on their writing desk. "No, but he'll come around eventually." While she took the records from Cesrik, Pennoly and Eryn appeared in the doorway, one expression stony, the other relieved.

"There were five casualties," said Eryn in a quiet voice, "and twelve wounded."

Elienya paused at that. "Five casualties?"

"Yes. All dragonriders."

Elienya shook her head. "I can't believe it."

"It's unthinkable," agreed Cesrik. "Why do the rebels hate dragonriders so much?"

"Probably because they're obsolete," said Pennoly. She hunched her shoulders defensively when Cesrik and Elienya glared at her. "What? It's true. The dragons are a drain on resources for Crafts and Holds alike. What purpose do they serve?"

"They exist," said Elienya with steely confidence, "to fight Thread."

Pennoly gave her an incredulous look. "You cannot be serious."

Even Cesrik looked dubious. "Do you really think Thread will fall, Elienya?"

Elienya balled her hands into fists. "Yes. We have proof right here!" She swept a hand over the records and explained to the girls about the orbit of the Red Star and the records of previous Threadfalls. It had been laid before her like a gift, but the Weyrleader had spat in her face when she'd tried to present it to him.

She'd have to find a way to prepare Pern on her own. And it started with the hatching. She had to Impress the queen dragonet if she had a chance at making a real difference.

Cesrik considered the records and made a small noise in the back of her throat, tapping one plump lip with her finger.

"I don't know," said Eryn. She fiddled with her dress. "Why should dragons have to fight? It sounds dangerous."

"Of course, it is," said Elienya. "But we'd be lost without them." She turned to Cesrik. "Cesrik?" For some reason, she valued the other girl's opinion – she didn't care if everyone else ridiculed her, she wanted Cesrik to believe her.

Cesrik gave her a long, considering look. "Alright."

Elienya blinked. "Alright?"

"Alright, I believe you."

Elienya gaped. She hadn't expected it to be that easy. She'd prepared a list of viable arguments in defense of Thread. "Truly?"

"Yes," said Cesrik with a laugh, "you silly girl. I said it, didn't I? The dragons were created for a purpose – why not fighting an airborne danger? It makes sense. Besides, it's hard to ignore what's right in front of our eyes." She jabbed a finger at the records.

"Well, I think you're all crazy," said Pennoly.

"No one asked you," said Elienya.

Pennoly pouted. "You asked Cesrik!"

"Is your name Cesrik?"

"No."

"Then, no one asked you."

Huffing, Pennoly folded her arns over her chest, stalked to her bed, and heaved herself onto it. Sharing a laughing look, Elienya and Cesrik sat down and began to transcribe the records onto other pieces of parchment. After a few minutes had passed, Eryn sat up and began to help, humming under her breath as she worked. The girls broke to eat dinner, went back to their room, and continued scribing through the night.


End file.
